


Foxholes

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: Hogan's Heroes (TV 1965)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Espionage, Feelings Realization, First Time, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22609879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: Hogan has an ally in the camp he never expected.
Relationships: Robert Hogan/Wilhelm Klink
Comments: 32
Kudos: 69
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Foxholes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's Day!

In his barracks, Colonel Robert Hogan leaned toward the coffeepot. Newkirk huddled near him with an ear as close to the pot as possible. In his office, Colonel Klink was speaking to someone on the phone, but he spoke softly enough some of the words were difficult to make out. 

Klink had spent a few days in Hamelburg and had come back in a strange mood. Usually a little time away from the camp lifted his spirits, but the last few times he’d come back subdued, not even in a good enough mood to threaten the prisoners with smaller rations and fewer privileges. 

The phone call ended. Newkirk pushed his cap up on his forehead. “Blimey, Colonel, is my hearing on the fritz or am I not the only one who didn’t catch a lick o’ that?”

Hogan rubbed his forehead. “It was somebody he knows, somebody he saw in Hamelburg. Got nothing beyond that.”

Klink called Schultz into his office, but again they spoke softly enough it was difficult to understand them. Maybe they should move the microphone from the photo of Hitler to somewhere on Klink’s desk. 

“Perhaps Colonel Hogan will have an answer?” came through clearly as Klink spoke louder. “Why, Schultz, if he were here right now, I’d ask him.”

“Shall I get him for you, Colonel?”

“No, no,” Klink said with a dramatic lilt, voice changing in volume as if he paced in the room. “That won’t be necessary. We wouldn’t want to disturb our dear Colonel Hogan, now would we? Why, he might be dreaming of a way to escape from Stalag 13.” Klink laughed. “But if he were here, Schultz, I would surely ask him.” Klink spoke as clear and loud as if he’d stopped right in front of the photo, his mouth a few inches away from the microphone. 

“Uh oh.” Newkirk stood and closed the lid on the coffeepot. “Do we pull it all, Colonel? Want me to call the boys up?” He headed for the bunk that led to their underground tunnel, clearly expecting to hear a _yes._

They’d spent too many sleepless nights setting up their operation, had taken too many risks. They wouldn’t throw it away now just because Klink might have been staring at Hitler while thinking aloud. 

“Not yet.”

“But sir--”

“If Klink had really found the device we’d have had soldiers storming this place already, probably with Burkhalter here to watch the show.”

Newkirk tilted his head like a dog who might have heard a whistle. “Maybe. Unless he wanted to get rid of it without Burkhalter knowing.”

“In which case this barracks would be leveled and we’d all be in the cooler anyway.”

Newkirk blinked rapidly, the corners of his mouth tilting up. “A much cheerier scenario, thank you, Colonel. So you’re tellin’ me it’s a mere coincidence that he’s talking into our microphone like he’s in that photo giving a speech himself?”

“Probably not. I’m telling you that if he’d found the microphone and intended to do anything about it, we’d already know it. I think we’re safe.”

Newkirk’s smile grew and he closed his eyes. “Now that’s a hypothetical I can get my own self behind, Colonel. I only hope you’re right.”

“Me, too.” Hogan stood and pulled his collar tighter around his neck to keep out the cold. “Might as well find out now. You keep listening unless I signal you to stop. Go ahead and have them clear the tunnel. I want you all together, just in case.”

“What’s the signal I should listen for?”

Hogan shrugged. “I’ll say . . . stop listening?”

Newkirk opened his mouth and let it hang there a second before he raised his eyebrows and said, “Fair enough, sir.”

* * *

Hogan met Schultz as the Sergeant came out of Klink’s office. 

“Herr Kommandant was just saying he wished you were here. Must be his lucky day.”

“Or yours.” Hogan patted his arm. “I heard a rumor that someone brought apple strudel to the guard shack a little while ago.”

Schultz’s eyes widened, and he hurried from the building. Klink’s secretary appeared to be gone for the night, so Hogan knocked and waited for Klink to respond. Then he stepped through the door and closed it behind him, taking off his hat with his other hand. 

Klink stood, arms behind his back, in front of the photo of Hitler. He leaned toward it, mouth almost touching the microphone. “Hogan! What a truly incredible surprise. I was just telling Schultz if you were here I would ask you a question. And like magic, here you are.”

Hogan didn’t step toward him, but held his hat in his hands and waited. Klink's face was unreadable, which was rare. He should have looked smug, or angry, or excited about his obvious discovery. 

“Sir,” Hogan said, only to give himself time to think of what to follow it with. “I just wanted to ask you about the Red Cross shipments we haven’t received yet.”

“Can it, Hogan.” Klink sat behind his desk and laced his fingers together on top of it. “Whatever you’re going to ask, it’s denied.”

“But sir, my men have a right to those supplies, and the Geneva--”

“I wanted to ask you which form of punishment you thought more suitable for your men for the sloppy and disorganized state of their barracks. That’s what Schultz and I were discussing earlier, in fact. Half rations for two weeks, or a week each in the cooler?”

Klink’s face somehow got even more serious, and he raised one finger to his lips as he nodded toward the photograph. He rose. “There have been some serious lapses around this camp, and while I understand it’s difficult to keep morale high when you’re prisoners, I will no longer tolerate the state of the barracks or the insubordination. So which option do you think will send the proper message? Bear in mind, you will suffer the same punishment.”

Klink approached him and took his arm. “I don’t expect you to answer me now, of course, Hogan. Discuss it with the other prisoners, if you like, but I expect an answer by this time tomorrow.” He pushed Hogan toward the door. “Dismissed!”

Hogan played along. “But sir--”

“You heard me, Hogan. Unless you want another week added on.”

“Of course not, sir.”

Klink followed Hogan into the outer office, and pushed him until they were squeezed into a small storage closet where they had to stand toe to toe. “I'm not sure it's safe to speak in my office,” Klink said. “I’ll put half-rations into my command reports, and I expect to hear some of the men complaining about it, loudly, in front of the guards, but I assure you there will be no changes.”

Did the Colonel think the microphone was someone on his own side listening in?

“Why are you telling me this in a closet, sir?” He raised his eyebrows, unable to resist getting a rise out of Klink. “If you wanted to get me all alone in a tiny closet, all you had to do was ask.”

“Hogan!” Klink sighed and held his eyes closed for a moment before meeting Hogan’s gaze. “Your listening device may not be the only one in this camp.”

“My listening device, sir?”

“Clever placement, Hogan. A microphone hidden in a photo of a microphone.” He shook his finger. “I’m a little embarrassed how long it took me to find it, but I only recently decided to look.”

“Then I guess you shouldn’t feel too bad.” Hogan had no idea what the hell was going on, but his earlier hunch seemed to have been right. Klink knew, but didn’t intend to act against them with that knowledge. At least not yet. That was more than he could have hoped for. 

Klink opened the closet door and peered out before closing it again and leaning closer than they were already forced to stand. 

“The Gestapo suspects Allied activity in the area. And they suspect some of it is happening inside my camp. They’re coming within days to do a sweep, Hogan. Anything you don’t want discovered needs to be well hidden. Better than you’ve ever hidden anything before. I can provide places for this if you need them.”

Hogan felt his mouth drop open. Normally he thought on his feet like a champ. Not today.

“Are you listening to me, Colonel Hogan? If the Gestapo finds a tiny hint that something is amiss here, it’s the Russian front for me, and frankly I fear the consequences to your and your men’s well-being. What you cannot confidently hide or dispose of, leave to me.”

“Sir, I’m not sure what to say to this. If I admit--”

“You need to admit nothing at this point. I know you listen to conversations in my office, maybe elsewhere in the camp, and I know you have a passage to the outside you and your men use to sabotage the German army every chance you get.” Klink put his hands on Hogan’s shoulders. “I’ve known this for a while now, and I assure you, Colonel Hogan, I am no threat to you. Just please, make sure that the Gestapo will not become aware of these things.”

Hogan shook his head. Had he fallen asleep and was in the midst of a strange dream? “Okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good.”

“Is this what you’ve been doing in Hamelburg, Colonel? You’re part of the resist--”

“Shhhh, Hogan, for god’s sake, don’t say it out loud.” He still held Hogan’s shoulders. “I’ll send for you tomorrow for some grievance or another and we’ll talk more about it. For now, we’ve been here too long. If anyone is paying attention it looks suspicious. Dismissed, Hogan.”

Klink pulled away and shot from the closet like a spring had sent him into the next room. When the office door slammed shut, Hogan let himself leave the building, a plan for hiding the tunnel entrance as fast as possible already forming in his mind. 

He rubbed his chin and turned to watch the light go out in Klink’s office. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered. 

* * *

Hiding the tunnel entrance wasn’t difficult, but it was tedious and all work they’d have to undo once the Gestapo cleared out. The worst part of the day had been trying to convince the men, especially Newkirk and LeBeau, that Klink appeared to be on their side. Carter scratched his head under his cap a lot, and Kinch mostly kept his arms crossed, staring at Hogan until he offered up more details. 

They were skeptical. Hogan understood that, because he wasn’t even 100% there yet. But the argument went on too long and was wasting too much time. They were sure it was time to get out of Stalag 13 and wait for pick-up. They would still contribute to the effort, Carter pointed out. It wasn’t like they’d leave the camp and forget their duty. 

“Am I going to have to force you to carry out my orders under protest?” Hogan rarely had to be firm with them. But this was important enough he couldn’t worry about hurt feelings. 

Newkirk stepped forward and put his hand on Hogan’s shoulder. “No sir. We’ll do what you say. I’m just never going to fully trust a Kraut in uniform as long as they’re out there and we’re in here.” He glanced at the other men, then squeezed Hogan’s shoulder. “But we trust you.”

They were over halfway finished, thanks to Klink keeping guards away from their barracks all day, when he sent for Hogan with Schultz this time. Klink met him outside his office, and Hogan felt a pang that he wouldn’t have the opportunity to make a remark about Klink getting him alone in a small space again. It had been the second time he’d said such a thing, and he’d come to enjoy Klink’s reactions. 

“Hogan,” Klink said with a formal, exaggerated nod. “Walk with me. Schultz, you’re dismissed.”

They walked leisurely around the camp, Klink with his riding crop under his arm, complaining loudly about Hogan’s behavior, his men’s behavior, and the general state of the camp. Between loud outbursts of problems and threats, he spoke softer directly to Hogan. 

They had at least two days before the Gestapo were due, but they should try to be finished by morning in case he was being given incorrect information to be caught off-guard. He asked for a status update after shouting about the trash on the ground. 

“We’ll be secure by tonight,” Hogan said. 

“Excellent,” Klink said softly. “Rubbish!” he shouted. 

By the time they’d circled the main area of the camp and were nearing Klink’s office again, Klink made a show of laying down several rules he expected the prisoners to follow and finished with, “Are you going to fix these things, Colonel Hogan? Can I get your word as an officer?”

“Of course sir. You have my word.”

“Then let’s shake on it.” Klink grasped Hogan’s hand to shake it and pressed a small square of folded paper into his palm. “Dismissed, Hogan.” Klink retreated into his office. 

Hogan didn’t open the paper until he was back in his barracks with Kinch as a lookout. Klink had passed him information about a train that needed to be stopped. It was too far away for them to do anything about it, but they could pass the details on to those who could. 

Again, he whispered, “I’ll be damned,” and gave the message to Kinch to radio up the line. 

Everything was going according to plan--the bug had been removed from Klink’s office and all the equipment they used up top in the barracks had been hidden below in a tunnel that would not appear to exist by the time the Gestapo showed up. They had all the wood and panels they needed, and merely had to secure everything in place. The sun had just gone down, but they’d be finished before lights out.

“This was sure a lot easier than I thought it’d be.” Carter rubbed his hands together, then blew on them before replacing his gloves. 

The siren blared. 

LeBeau stared into Carter’s eyes and drew his fingers across his throat. “You had to say it, didn’t you?”

They watched out the window to see Klink storm out of his office, bundled in his coat and gloves, his riding crop in place, shouting orders to the guards and Schultz. Soldiers went barracks to barracks ordering the prisoners out. Schultz headed their way. 

How much did they have to hide? Was Schultz in on it, too? 

“I see nothing,” Schultz said as he opened the door and nearly backed in to make sure of that. "Herr Kommandant wants me to inform you that a prisoner has escaped and to report for roll call immediately. All but Colonel Hogan, who will wait here.”

Hogan started to ask why, but Schultz groaned, shook his head and was at Klink’s side again in seconds. 

“Do as he says,” Hogan said, urging the men outside. Schultz appeared to be checking the prisoners while Klink stomped his way. 

“What do you know about this, Hogan?” Klink asked, once inside. 

“Nothing, sir. If someone escaped, they did it on their own, against orders. Who was it?”

“Corporal Johnson.”

Hogan bit his lip. “He just got a _Dear Johnson_ letter in the mail from his girl back home. Rash decision. I’ll try not to hold it against him. Nobody else?”

“It appears not. Hogan, do you realize how bad this is? With the Gestapo on the way, arriving as early as tomorrow morning? They’ll be here longer, look more closely.”

“Not if we get Johnson back before they get here. I know how he thinks, where he’s liable to go. Let me go after him and bring him back.” Hogan dug gloves out of his jacket pockets and put them on. 

“How do you propose I do that, Hogan. I can’t very well let you march out of camp into the woods, can I?” Klink paced. 

“Our tunnel comes out deep enough into the woods the guards won’t be looking that far out yet.”

“I see. Where does it come out, exactly?”

It was now or never. Either he was going to fully trust Klink or not. His gut said to trust him, and it hadn’t steered him wrong yet. Hogan told him, and Klink looked impressed and not at all like he’d just pulled useful information from an enemy prisoner. _Because we're not enemies._

“Clever. But it won’t work since it has to be sealed tonight.”

“They can seal it after me, and I’ll come back in with Johnson at gunpoint when I surrender us to a guard. You can say I brought him back on purpose or that I was running with him and got caught, whichever would better satisfy the Gestapo.” His men weren’t going to be happy about that, especially Newkirk, but it seemed the best way to keep their operation going and probably keep Johnson from getting shot trying to run or getting sent somewhere else. Somewhere much worse. 

“I don’t like it, Hogan. Seems risky.”

“We’re at war, Colonel. Every day’s risky, isn’t it?”

Klink smirked. “All right. I’ll keep the search close to camp for now to give you time.” He turned to leave, then spoke over his shoulder. “Do be careful.”

Hogan tipped his hat. “Always am, Colonel.”

* * *

Hogan always had been careful, but sometimes it didn’t help a damn bit. He’d convinced the men that sealing the tunnel after him was their best and only move, and he’d gone the length of it, careful to make sure the woods were quiet. 

The woods were not quiet. In fact, the sound of Germans talking about the escaped prisoner and where they’d looked for him were so close, they might have been sitting on the stump that hid the entrance taking a cigarette break. 

Too much time passed before their voices faded, and Hogan started to wonder if he was going to end up miscalculating and getting the tunnel discovered and maybe shot while trying to bring Johnson back. 

A sound above him, not the sound of someone sitting and smoking but of someone opening the hatch, sent him a couple dozen feet into the tunnel. Someone dropped in.

“Hogan!” the voice hissed. 

“Colonel Klink?”

Klink rushed toward him, shushing. “The Gestapo is here, earlier than I’d predicted. They insisted on expanding the search. I’m afraid you’re trapped here until they’ve moved back toward the camp. Your men already had the tunnel sealed on that end.”

“You go back while no one’s around to see you climb out,” Hogan said, gently pushing Klink’s back. “I can wait it out.”

“Too dangerous, Hogan. It’s going to be some time before we can take the chance of opening that hatch again. Besides, once the coast is clear, we’ll go back together. I joined the search as a pretense to warn you, and when we return I’ll be holding a pistol at your back. That should leave us both safe from suspicion. Don’t worry, I covered my footprints. We should be safe here for the time being.”

Klink took a hell of a chance coming out there. And it was cold in that tunnel. They had an oil lamp that put out a little light and less heat. A stack of blankets was all they had to stay warm, and if they were stuck there for too many hours in this weather, even with blankets and their coats the cold put them at real risk.

A sound from the hatch prompted Klink to spin and pull his pistol, aimed first at the entrance and then at Hogan. If a soldier found the tunnel, Hogan realized, Klink could pretend he’d just found it himself and captured Hogan. 

Smart. And surprising. When Klink thought someone was trying to kill him and he and Hogan had traded places, twice he’d watched Klink struggle to pull his pistol from a back pocket, then hold it with a shaking hand. 

Klink had just pulled it out, from beneath his coat no less, as fast as Hogan could have done it. And his hand didn’t twitch at all. 

The sound faded. Perhaps an animal had run across the stump. Klink holstered his pistol. 

“I guess we might as well get comfortable, Colonel.” Hogan threw a couple of blankets on the ground next to the wall and sat, leaving room next to him for Klink, who stared for a moment before sitting next to him. Hogan pulled the rest of the blankets over them and leaned toward Klink. The closer together they stayed, the warmer they’d be. 

At least that was a damn good excuse, wasn’t it?

“That was a pretty good quick draw, Colonel. Impressive.”

“Thank you, Hogan.”

“When I watched you try to do that twice in one evening in your quarters when you were wearing my clothes, you could barely hang on to it or get it free of your pants.”

Klink frowned. “I was afraid for my life.”

“I’m not buying it.”

Klink turned his head to stare straight at Hogan. “Pardon me?”

So many things clicked into place when Hogan thought back on that night: Klink’s exaggerated terror, the way he practically sat on top of Hogan on the sofa, and when Hogan moved away, Klink scooted close again. The way they ate off the same plate, Klink only taking a bite after Hogan, as if that would have mattered since he didn’t wait to see if Hogan fell over dead after each bite. 

“When you worried the food was poisoned, you didn’t wait to see if it hurt me before eating it yourself. Did you trust my judgment that much, or were you not as worried about being murdered as you let on?” Was that _Klink_ 's excuse to keep Hogan near him?

Klink merely scoffed. 

“And on the couch, you sat pressed against me when--”

“You were the one who sat in the middle, Hogan! You could have sat on an end and given me more room.”

So Klink had an answer ready for that. Meaning he’d thought about it. 

“Yes. I suppose I could have.” He'd sat in the middle on purpose, just so Klink would have to sit close, but Klink had nearly sat in his lap. Hogan hadn't expected that, but he also hadn't minded much. He stared at Klink, refusing to budge. “And after dinner when you felt faint and had to lie down and insisted I lie down with you in case Mr. X showed up in your bedroom?”

“I did feel awful, Hogan. That was a stressful day.”

Hogan, still in Klink’s uniform and Klink in his clothes, had crawled into the bed with him and said, ‘Colonel Klink, if you’d wanted to get me into your bed, all you ever had to do was ask.”

Klink had opened his mouth, scandalized. He’d rolled over with a sniff and made a few grumbling noises, but he hadn’t moved away enough that they didn't touch. Hogan had rolled onto his side and lifted his arm to place it over Klink’s waist when Schultz had pounded on the door saying Klink’s name. 

Klink had jumped up and insisted to Schultz that Hogan was about to go tend to some of his duties. Schultz, of course, had seen nothing.

“A stressful day?” Hogan repeated. “It was an interesting day, to be sure, being joined at the hip with you.”

Klink chuckled. “Yes. And here we are again.”

“Funny how that keeps happening.” Hogan's clothes had smelled like Klink when he'd gotten them back. They'd smelled like the uniform and the coat he'd worn while pretending to be the Colonel. He'd gotten so quickly used to being wrapped in that scent of soap, aftershave and cigars, he'd regretted the need to launder his clothes. But being this close to Klink brought that feeling straight back. 

Klink leaned against him with a shiver.

“You know, Colonel Klink, we could still get shot getting out of this tunnel.”

“You more likely than me.”

“Probably, but accidents happen.”

“So what you’re saying, Hogan, is that this could be our last night alive. Last chances . . . and all that.”

“Mm.”

“Too bad we don’t have a chessboard.” Klink’s voice shook slightly, and Hogan didn’t think it was the cold.

“I wasn’t thinking about chess.”

“It’s just that I played poorly on purpose, and so did you, to let me win. I think you might find me more a challenge if we both played with our best effort.”

“After the last couple of days, Colonel, I have no doubt of that.” 

“Do you ever think about what happens after, Hogan?” Klink’s tone was one of grasping at something to say. Maybe he wasn’t ready to talk about whatever was happening between them. Hogan wasn’t great at talking about such things, either. He was more a man of action than words. 

“After the war?” He scooted down until he was on his side under the blankets, and it prompted Klink to do the same and lie next to him. 

“No, after you die.” Klink hesitated, but then rolled onto his side until he and Hogan were face to face, their bodies pressed together to conserve heat, blankets up to their necks. “What’s that saying you Americans have? No atheists in foxholes?”

Hogan opened one of the buttons on Klink’s coat and waited for a reaction. When a slight shudder was all he got, he worked at the line of buttons until he began opening buttons on Klink’s uniform. 

“I’ve never thought much about it, whether there’s an afterlife. We’ll all find out eventually anyway.”

Klink, far less certain than when he’d pulled his pistol earlier, pulled off his glove and slid his hand inside Hogan’s jacket, then his shirt until skin touched skin. Klink's breath caught, but he hurried to say something else. “That’s the correct saying, though, isn’t it? No atheists in foxholes?”

“It is. But I prefer the idea of no regrets in foxholes. I may not know what comes later, but I know what I don’t want to miss out on while I’m still here.”

As Hogan usually did, he went with his gut. He grabbed the thick lapel of Klink’s coat and pulled him forward to press their lips together. To his surprise, all Klink's hesitation was gone as Klink’s hand slid up the back of Hogan’s coat to pull his shirt tail out of his pants. A warm palm pressed against his skin. 

Klink kissed him back, groaning into the crush of their mouths. Any remaining buttons were opened but the clothes left on because of the cold. Their skin was warm, so Hogan tried not to let air get between them. 

One mild regret flashed through Hogan's mind as his thigh slid between Klink’s and they rocked together: that they weren’t somewhere warm enough they could shed the rest of their clothes and do things properly. But if that were the case, maybe this wouldn’t have happened at all. 

Klink’s hand warmed his skin, fingers digging in with just the right amount of pressure to pull Hogan against him tighter, until finally Hogan lay mostly atop him, being pulled down, rocking against him, their kiss too greedy to let either break for air. 

The kiss muffled the sounds they did make, a good thing. He was mindful that soldiers could be combing the woods not far above them, but the pleasure hit Hogan hard and fast enough when it came he almost forgot himself and shouted. Klink managed to stay quiet as his back arched and his fingers dug into Hogan's hip. 

He looked as taken aback and wrung out afterward as Hogan felt. Hogan gazed down at him and waited for him to open his eyes and focus. When he did, a hint of worry shone even in the dimness, so Hogan kissed him again, slower and softer. 

“Like I said, no regrets.” 

Klink's hands cupped his face in a gesture that made Hogan's throat tighten. When he moved off Klink, they used Hogan’s handkerchief and began refastening their clothing. Then they lay face to face again, huddling together, each with an arm over the other. Despite the cold and the risk of being caught by the Gestapo, a lightness washed over Hogan. He’d thought about doing that for a long time, and had begun to think not doing so would be a regret he’d carry home from the war. Now things had changed between them, and Hogan’s gut said everything was going to be all right. 

After several minutes of nothing but the sound of the lamp popping and their breaths gradually slowing, Klink said, "You know, Hogan, if you wanted to get me alone in a dark, cold tunnel with only our body heat to keep us warm--”

“All I’d had to do was ask?” 

“Something like that.” His voice held a smile Hogan didn’t have to see. 

Hogan kissed him, then pressed their cheeks together and relaxed into what seemed like a comfortable position. “You came running to help me, remember? Guess I wouldn't have to ask after all.”

Klink laughed, more than his usual chuckle. “No, I guess you wouldn't.”

It was nearly morning before the woods above seemed silent enough for them to risk emerging. They’d dozed off and on, but had been unable to sleep well because of the cold and the worry of discovery. Maybe, a few times, they could have gotten out without notice but didn't have the will to move and end their time together. 

The search had been called off because Johnson had a change of heart, or he got cold and scared, and came back to camp. Schultz had covered for Klink, and when Klink walked in with Hogan as his recaptured prisoner, the Gestapo seemed satisfied. 

Hochstetter was furious and suspicious, but that was Hochstetter’s natural state of being, so things seemed back to normal by the time the Gestapo pulled out a day later, having found nothing out of order. They’d kept Klink busy, and of course Hogan was in the cooler until they left, but that evening Klink had him released. 

He’d been back in the barracks with hugs and back pats from the men for all of five minutes before Klink showed up and insisted on talking to Hogan outside. 

“What is it, Colonel?” Hogan walked with him, arms crossed and hands under his arms because his gloves were in the barracks. 

“My quarters have been carefully swept by the Gestapo, under my supervision. I’m confident they’re secure. For safety’s sake, however, when you’re there we should have only casual conversation and not make much . . . noise.”

Hogan knew what he was getting at, but he couldn’t resist drawing down his brows in confusion “Sir?”

Klink pursed his lips together as if he’d expected it. “I want you to join me for dinner tonight, Hogan, at seven o’clock. And I want you to stay after dinner for a time. We can play chess and talk about things that have nothing to do with the war. And, of course, we can do other things.”

Klink cleared his throat. “I have it on fairly good authority that if I want to get you alone in my quarters, asking is a foolproof method of making that happen."

"Your quarters? You mean get me in your bed?" Hogan bounced on the balls of his feet, enjoying the splash of color forming across Klink's cheeks. "Specifics are important, sir." 

"Yes, that too. I'm asking, Hogan, which is apparently all I've ever had to do.” One corner of his mouth twitched up, and his jaw muscles clenched. 

Hogan couldn’t stop his smile so easily. “So I keep telling you. Seven, sir.” He saluted Klink, who scoffed and hurried toward his office. Hogan went back to the barracks. His gut said he was going to have one of the best nights he’d ever had inside that camp, hopefully the first of many. He trusted his gut as much as his men, and as much as he trusted Newkirk to explode into tiny little pieces, each one screaming a different curse word, if he ever found out what was going on between him and Klink. 

Hell, he trusted his gut as much as he now trusted Colonel Klink, and that thought brought the sense of calmness over him again, the sense that everything really was going to be all right. 

Hogan helped his men repair the tunnel, and watched the clock, and wondered just how quiet Klink really expected them to be. 


End file.
